Book Two

Chapter Three

The Dead-Lands

Marith

Marith and her party stepped off the ship onto the dry, desolate town of Shaftsbury. An old mining town the place now only served as a resting stop for vessels and a warehouse town to store goods that wouldn’t spoil until prices were better suited for selling. The party of adventurers made their way down the docks as the crew of the ship unloaded the crates of goods they had been transporting. The people looked at the adventurers with suspicion. The other adventurers weren’t bothered, but Marith felt stung by their distrust; she wasn’t used to the mistrust that common people had for adventurers. Adventurers brought trouble, even if a town was suffering from monster attacks they would rarely ask heroes for help, sometimes they were as much trouble or would fail in defeating the monsters, and the monsters would come back with a vengeance.

The adventurers paid for rooms at the saloon and made their way to the sheriff’s station. They waited in the lounge as the sheriff’s deputy polished a metal device he held in his hand.

“Sherriff will be back in an hour or so,” the deputy said to them. “We’ve had reports of gremlins on the borders of town and the sheriff went to check for tracks in case we need to alert the Emperor.”

“What are gremlins?” Marith asked.

“You new to the Empire? Gremlins are a race of goblin, they are the smartest of all of them and fast as hell. They can operate firearms and make tons of explosives that they use. We mostly confine them to the wilderness, but occasionally one of their clans rises up and threatens us. We’ve been on especially high alert since we’ve heard reports that one of their clans, the Raku, have been rising up.” The deputy said making small talk.

“What’s causing it?” Herbalt asked.

“We’ve heard tales of some Priest’s or something wearing bone masks and preaching to their clans. They aren’t just attacking Imperial settlements they’ve also been conquering other clans and forcing them to join their cause,” the deputy explained. “I think that’s the sheriff now.

The adventurer looked out the window and saw a gnome in imperial leather armor riding what looked like a giant rooster. He dismounted and tied the giant-rooster to a hitching post in front of the building and walked under the swinging doors that entered the room.

“Howdy Jake,” the sheriff said his ten-pointed silver star glinting on his chest.

“Howdy sheriff, these adventurers are here to talk to you,” Deputy Jake said with a nod of his head towards the party.

“Hope you ain't been spreading gossip again,” the sheriff said taking off his wide-brimmed hat and bowing low to the adventurers showing his very small stature. “I’m afraid I can’t talk long so whatever you want to make it quick.”

“We are on a quest from the Temples of the Elements to recover a critical magical item,” Herbalt said. “The last place our information places it was this town where it was in the position of a group of adventurers who owned it. The adventurers went by the name of the Dreadful Eight. We were hoping to get a look at your records and see where they went next.”

“Sorry about that but only Imperial officials are allowed to see those records, and right now this town is in a crisis unless you fancy getting caught in a siege I’d get back on your ship or ride like hell,” the sheriff said.

“What is going on?” Marith asked.

“I was checking out reports or gremlins on the edge of town, rumors are true, and unfortunately they were the opposite of exaggerated. There’s an army of some three hundred carcar riders out of town. Looks like they’ve either captured or killed farmer Kell and his family and taken over their farm,” the sheriff explained.

“What if we helped drive off the gremlins?” Marith asked. “Could you take a look at those records for us?”

The sheriff looked her up and down, mostly down he was after all only three feet tall. “What rank are you?” he asked her plainly.

“I haven’t been tested yet,” Marith replied honestly.

“She has composed herself well, and I would place her as a rank eight cleric,” Herbalt said.

“Aye, she’s a fighter,” Carl the dwarf agreed.

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re confident. Well it's your life, but I won’t say I didn’t give you fair warning,” the gnome said and pulled an identical metal device from a holster at his belt. “You know what this is?”

“I believe it is a firearm I’ve read they are very popular in the west but have a habit of jamming when there are large quantities of magic in the air,” Herbalt said.

“You got it about right, but have you ever seen one of these used?” the sheriff asked.

“No,” the party admitted.

The sheriff turned on his head hefted the large pistol in both hands positioned his feet and fired the gun. The thunder of the shot filled the room deafening its occupants as the shot punctured through the metal sign outside the sheriff station. “If you want to go against an army of gremlin’s using weapon’s like that be my guest I won’t turn away extra defenders,” the sheriff said. “I won’t put you in charge of the local militia, but you won’t have to take orders either. As long as you stay out of our way to consider yourselves free and independent but if you interfere with our defense I’ll have you jailed and court-martialed,” the sheriff warned.

The party nodded shook the sheriff’s and deputy’s hand and exited the station. They wandered over to the fifteen-foot-tall sandstone wall that surrounded the frontier town and looked out on the sandy scrubland that surrounded the town. The sun was setting, and only the quick darting motions of desert creatures showed any signs that there was any life out in the Dead-lands.

“What does one even farm out in this desolate land?” Sel’van their elven ranger asked.

“Maybe we should find out, get a look at this army ourselves,” Marith suggested.

“Could be dangerous,” Carl warned.

“I agree with Marith we should risk it,” Silla said pulling up the scarf that hid her half-orc features. “If we know nothing about our new enemies we will be at a great disadvantage.”

The party crawled over the hill and overlooked the rows of tents that had been set up around a sandstone house carved us of a cliff-face. There were dozens of pens with carcar hens with a carcar rooster with brilliant tail plumage. They were thin green-skinned humanoids that stood between four-and-a-half and five feet tall with long pointed ears and black hair. Groups of gremlins gathered around sparring rings were male carcar were pitted against each other ripping out each other’s tail plumage with their beaks and using their spurs and claws to slash at each other. Marith watched as one of the carcar beat its opponent to the ground and continued to claw at it as the gremlins cheered the bird’s vicious attack.

One of the tents stood apart from the others with two pure black carcar penned alone out in front of it. Marith took out a spyglass she had bought in town and focused it on the tent. The flap opened and out stepped a tall gremlin whose entire face was covered in a bone-white mask carved with two long fangs and sharp teeth. And a white flange around the edges of the mask. The flap moved again, and another masked figure stepped out. Both of the figures were dressed very differently than their troops and imperial subjects in towns. Their clothes were jet black with wide sleeves and an open shirt that was belted closed.

“What are they wearing?” Carl asked. “Never seen clothes like that.”

“It is called a dogi, they are worn by many warriors to the north particularly by nobles of the Moon Elves,” Herbalt whispered back.

“They aren’t holding weapons,” Sel’van remarked. “They are very likely spellcasters.”

“If these are the priests that the deputy Jake talked about should we kill them now,” Marith asked.

“Agreed if we cut off the head of the snake they will be much easier for the defenders to defeat,” Herbalt said.

“Should we wait for nightfall?” Silla asked fingering her black cloak.

“No,” Sel’van said to the half-orc rogue. “These are apparently a type of goblinoid, so they can likely see quite well in the dark and Marith, and Herbalt will be at a disadvantage. Besides the longer we linger, the more likely it is we will be discovered.”

The party crawled over the rise of a hill to an old water tower suspended by four thick wooden posts. Likely it had been used to water horses or carcar it made an excellent spot for Sel’van to prepare to shoot arrows. Marith whispered a prayer and blessed the members of her party with the favor of Fesla to guide their attacks. Herbalt readied himself to launch spells and Carl got ready to push back any gremlins who rushed them. Silva disappeared into the shadows as she got into her own position.

Sel’van loosed an arrow, and it struck one of the priests square in the chest. The other gremlin priest rolled behind a barrel, and Herbalt’s blast of fire missed blowing his mask off. The priest stood again and extended both of his hands to the side. Black mist poured out of his hands and coalesced into twin blades of black metal, he deflected the next shot and let out a howl that echoed through the valley. One of the pure black carcar leaped the pen it was and rushed to the priest’s side. The Priest grabbed the carcar’s reigns and swung into the saddle and rode towards the adventures. No expression could be read behind the priest’s fierce mask, but his body carried himself like a man without fear.

Marith and Carl stepped forward as the gremlin army milled about it confusion as they prepared themselves for an attack. The priest reached them and somersaulted over the head of his mount and landed in a crouch. Marith swung her Warhammer down at the gremlin, and it parried the massive blow with one of its blades and blocked Carl’s attack with its other. Marith felt an otherworldly force wrap around her being and lift her up into the air. Marith looked down at the mask and realized it wasn’t just bone white but was made of some type of bone; runes were carved along the fringe of the mask, and there was one large glyph in the center of its forehead.

“You did a grave dishonor to attack my brother from such a cowardly position,” the priest said to them as it stepped back disengaging them. “Have they no codes of honor where you are from?”

“We have a code kill our enemies,” Carl shouted swinging his ax forward.

The priest laughed and sidestepped the swing with contemptuous ease. “I am Slaav, a leader of the Clan Raku and priest of Pathaldron I would no your names so that I may add them to my song and immortalize you in my honor.”

“Liar, Pathaldron has no priests only the taken are you of those foul dark lords?” Marith spat raising her hammer before her.

“We are servants of the Turashen,” Slaav said turning his masked face towards her. She was startled to realize she couldn’t see his eyes or mouth through the slits of the mask only yawning empty darkness. “We are not Turashen, but we shall serve them until the end of time that is the gift Pathaldron has given us.”

“We’ll see about that,” Silla said appearing behind the Raku and ramming her dagger through his spine. The raku stiffened and then collapsed.

“That wasn’t so hard,” Marith said breathing out a sigh of relief.

“Dang it that ones still alive,” Carl said gesturing to the Raku Sel’van had shot who staggered up and began striding towards them twin blades appearing in his hands as well.

“I shot him straight in the heart he must have some sort of armor on under his robes,” Sel’van said knocking another arrow and firing it.

The raku deflected the shot and began to race forward a blast of black eldritch energy shot towards the adventurers. Sel’van jumped off the water tower, and the blast of energy only caught his shoulder spinning him around through the air and knocking the wind out of him when he landed. Herbalt helped Sel’van to his feet, and the adventures began to flee back towards town. The Raku perused them calling its black winged mount to and mounting it.

The carcar charged them its riders the wide sleeves of his gi streamed out behind him as he dropped both his swords and they vanished back into the black mist. The Raku began gesturing and blasting them with spells from afar. They ran to the horses they had rented from the town’s stables and rode for the gate. The Raku stopped on the top of a tall hill and looked at them the black sockets of his mask drilling into their backs.

“Well that didn’t go as hoped, but at least we got one of them,” Carl said.

“I only hope it will be enough to help these people,” Marith said.

The party sat around a table in the saloon with a glass of beer in front of them. Marith drank little as she had never been the kind of lady who enjoyed alcohol. The journey had left her feeling exhausted, and she felt unable to suppress emotions she had kept bottled up since news of her husband’s death. She excused herself and stepped out of the saloon and walked to the town’s sandstone wall and stood upon its ramparts. Looking out across the desolation she felt the tight knot in her chest as she fought to control the sobs that threatened to break free.

“Evening Miss,” said a voice behind her startling her.

Turning sharply Marith saw Deputy Jake standing at ease leaning against the parapet. “Good evening deputy,” she replied her voice even with only the slightest tremble.

“Please call me Jake,” Deputy Jake said with a smile and then looked at her with concern. “Is there something the matter?”

“No, I’m fine just thinking about somethings,” Marith answered quickly.

“Such as, if you don’t mind me asking,” Jake added hurriedly.

“My husband…. He passed away recently. He became an adventurer to pay off some debts our family occurred when we bought a farm. He was killed by orcs, I never even got to bury him and had to take our children to Fells when our farm was taken back by the local Lord. It has been hard without him,” Marith answered.

“Was he a good man?” Jake asked coming up beside her and leaning on the parapet overlooking the land around them.

“Darren was…. a man of extremes. He loved our children and me and would have done anything for us, but he also was blinded by ambition. He wanted more than the life of his father a common town guard, so he bought land to give us more standing but being a farmer didn’t sit with him either,” Marith said with a short laugh.

“He sounds like an interesting man, did his party bring you the news themselves?” Jake asked.

“No, Darren wasn’t well liked by the adventuring guild. Darren wrote to tell me the only reason the party had taken him was because they needed a rogue,” Marith explained. “But he was my husband, and I loved him still do even though he’s gone. I worry that our children will be orphans both of their parents killed on adventurers.”

“Somehow I doubt that I sense that of the two of you, you are somehow the stronger,” Jake said softly laying a hand of Marith’s. “Wherever your husband is I’m sure he is at peace.”

“I don’t know if Darren could ever be at peace,” Marith said with a nervous laugh pulling away from Jake. “Good night Deputy I will see you in the morning.”

Marith walked back to the saloon alone. Entering the room, she shared with Silla she closed the door softly settled down into the narrow bed and lay on her stomach. She cried then silently letting the tears soak her pillow. She felt heartsick from the loss of her husband and from being separated from her children.

“I will come back for you two,” she whispered and then uttered a silent prayer to Fesla. “Watch over my children and wherever my husband is, protect his soul.”